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morallyinept · 6 days

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Adrift With You - A Frankie Morales Series - Chapter 17

Summary: Heading away on a work re-location, Frankie embarks on a flight, but unbeknownst to him, his life is about to change forever. For starters, he will need to fight for it; harder than he's ever fought for anything else before.

Marooned on an isolated island in the middle of the ocean, still recovering from an addiction, his chances of survival are bleak; but he’s not alone on the island, and soon he’s running towards a different kind of life - a life with fellow survivor, Jude, fighting right beside him every step of the way.

And if they can both survive the island together, they can survive anything, right?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x OFC Jude

Chapter word count: 6.5k

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: Frankie and Jude arrive home to their respective families, and begin to face the realities of their separation.

Enjoy! 🖤

Chapter 16

You’ll be surprised to know that the odds of surviving a plane crash are pretty much in your favour; despite the fact I killed everyone off in this story except for our Delta hero and his heroine.

Around ninety-five point seven per cent in your favour to be precise. However, the doomed flight eight-sixteen defied those perky odds when the engine caught fire and the plane plummeted out of the sky and crash landed into the ocean, nose first.

The survival rate was hampered by several factors: the storm, the pilots being unable to regain control of the aircraft, and the fact that the plane hit the water at such a speed that it broke apart upon impact.

There were no other survivors; the plane’s black box was never found. A search party ensued of course as soon as the plane didn’t arrive at its intended destination, but the searches were only conducted in and around the immediate area where the plane was last spotted on radar. The point of its disappearance was just past the tip of South Africa, having been tumbling off course as it was crash landing, towards the Kerguelen Islands; a group of islands in French Southern and Antarctic lands.

The original destination for flight eight-sixteen was Madagascar - Jude’s choice for a sunny getaway and Frankie’s work taking him there for a fresh start. To relax and unwind and do some lemur spotting whilst getting over their respective break-ups and life kicking them in the mutual grits.

A distance of two thousand, four hundred and forty-eight miles separates Madagascar and the Kerguelen Islands. And a distance of one thousand, three hundred and thirty-four miles from Cape Town on the tip of South Africa to the Prince Edward Islands.

The islands are for the most part uninhabited, except for a native colony of penguins. However to the north east of the islands, there are further tinier islands that are also uninhabited and isolated, and this is where our two survivors ultimately washed up.

The climate around the islands is predominantly warm with generous helpings of rain and it’s for this reason that Frankie and Jude were able to survive and collect water on a regular basis, although sometimes dangerously sparing. Sheer dumb luck in brute honesty, I mean, they could have crash landed anywhere, right?

Of course this knowledge now seems useless and pointless to them because every day on that island was a constant battle for survival and no amount of facts or ‘you were lucky you landed where you did’ spiel is going to change that harrowing thought.

The flight back home to The States was as anxious as they come. Stepping foot onto that plane was one of the bravest things they both had encountered and achieved. And the pair didn’t let go of each other’s hands at all, occasionally squeezing tight when the plane would dip or jolt from turbulence; their hearts trying to make a dash for it and their bowels equally bracing for carnage in their seats.

The flight from Cape Town to New York’s JFK was approximately twenty-one hours with a stop-over in Amsterdam for a re-fuel. They sat in business class, with that extra leg room for Frankie of course, and Jude marvelled at the space, courtesy of the US Embassy.

The luxury and the service came with a bright bleached smile, whilst Frankie admired and watched Jude as though she were a caged animal being let loose for the first time.

They had no physical luggage aside from a tiny carry-on with a spare pair of clothes each, their phone chargers and a small amount of cash that Benny had wired Frankie through the help of a local bank; other than that, they just had their new passports, out of date iPhones and each other.

Jake had arranged for a security escort to meet them at the airport and to drive them to their Air Bn’b in the city, close enough to Jude’s parent’s house.

They eventually dozed off together, Jude’s head resting on Frankie’s bony shoulder and his head on top of hers, clutching tightly onto one another’s hand still, even in their drowsy state.

The plane touched down at JFK and it was raining out; a grey sky greeted them, seemingly following them home from the island, and despite it, it was good to be finally on firm ground that wasn’t sand.

They waited to exit the plane under instruction from their escort, after the flurry of the other passengers who paid no mind to them at all, and in no real rush to face the inevitable - Jude’s stomach was already in knots.

They went through border control, handing over their passports for inspection and scrutiny with Frankie taking his cap off to reveal his long, overgrown locks to the officer.

They both were in dire need of a haircut amongst other things, but Frankie was kinda rocking this shaggy grown out look and even attempted a man bun.

“You look like a pretentious dick, take it out,” Jude had said to him, laughing, when he modelled it for her back in the hotel room in Cape Town.

“It was the look I was going for.” He’d mused to her.

Just outside the arrivals hall on the other side of passport control, an officer is holding up a plaque with Frankie’s last name printed over it, and they both approach them cautiously.

“Captain Morales, I presume?” The officer enquires. He’s flanked by several other border patrol and burly military officers, and their escort from the consulate in Cape Town hands over their documents.

“Just Frankie,” Frankie greets as the man offers his hand to shake it.

“We’re here to escort you both through arrivals and get you home. It’s a little crazy out there. Everyone is glad you’re both home safely.”

Jude can hear the ruckus already - an animated fracas of chatter and excitement. The sounds of camera shutters are already going off and flashes of lights pulse down the entrance hall.

“You ready?” Frankie asks her, tightening his grip on her hand.

She smiles. “No.”

Frankie takes his cap off and places it on her head, pulling the visor down over her face.

The officers flank them in an arrowhead formation, closing the gaps on the sides whilst two officers head up the front.

“Just keep your head down, hermosa,” Frankie says, and squeezes her hand. “It’ll soon be over.”

They begin to walk in unison and it’s like they’re walking in beat to the rhythm of her heart, slowly getting faster and faster as they break through the automatic doors into arrivals and into a deluge of carnage.

The crowds start clapping and cheering. The terminal is a whirlwind of noise and motion, a stark contrast to the quiet isolation of the island.

“FRANCISCO! JUDE! OVER HERE! FRANCISCO!”

The crowds are cordoned off with barriers and police officers lining the route. A plethora of journalists and paparazzi flank them, following through the crowds, and a glitter of flashing lights blind them both as they push on forward with the military officers surrounding them.

“Francisco, how do you feel about being rescued?”

“What's the first thing you’re going to do now you’re back?”

The questions come rapid fire and are yelled through the gaps of the officers, each one more intrusive than the last.

“How did you become a couple?”

“Do you have anything to say about the Airline? Are you going to sue?”

Frankie tightens his grip on Jude’s hand, drawing strength from their connection. He can feel her trembling, and he knows she’s just as overwhelmed as he is.

The cacophony is deafening and Jude feels Frankie squeeze back onto her hand tightly before he pulls her inwards, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and she buries her face into his armpit and squeezes her eyes closed, wishing it was over.

“Keep moving,” one of the soldiers instructs, his voice firm but reassuring. “We’ve got you covered.”

They push through the throng, the military personnel forming a protective barrier around them. The crowd is relentless, cameras flashing in their faces, microphones thrust forward in the hope of catching a soundbite.

Frankie tries to keep his focus ahead, his hand pressed up against the shoulder of one of the army guys so as not to get separated, but the sheer volume of attention is staggering.

“How does it feel to be back on American soil?”

“What was the hardest part of your ordeal?”

“Can you tell us what you remember about the crash?”

The noise seems to die out a little as they exit the terminal and are practically manhandled into a large car with tinted windows, which speeds off as soon as the doors are slammed shut. Jude clocks a few wayward journalists taking photos of the car and running after it.

The car heads out of the airport, picking up speed as it hits the freeway and she finally breathes.

“You guys okay back there?” The soldier who greeted them turns in the front passenger seat to face them.

They both nod with eyes wide and frightened.

“You okay?” Frankie asks her, still moulded tightly under his arm.

“Yeah. Just a little overwhelmed. That was insane!” Jude whispers back to him.

“Yeah, fuckin’ crazy…” Frankie murmurs.

They’re dropped off with their documents and the soldier informs them he’ll be back tomorrow to escort Frankie to the airport and drop Jude at her parents.

Once inside the safe confines of the Air Bn’b, which is a little apartment, with a double bed and bath tub big enough for them both, they both sit back in the hot bubbly water as Frankie cradles Jude against his chest after washing her hair and listening to her humming and singing her favourite songs. He automatically braids it and she smiles at him over her shoulder.

“Habit,” he replies as she runs her hand down the tight weaves of the braid. He leans forward and kisses her shoulder.

After making a small meal, which they barely manage to eat, they lay in bed together, their limbs knotted and entwined as they kiss and touch and stain their skin with one another.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” Jude says to him as the room darkens around them.

“I won’t stay away long.” Frankie confirms.

“Take as much time as you need. Your family will want to spend time with you.”

“It’s gonna be weird not waking up with you in my arms.” Frankie admits after a while of lying there with her and feeling her warm body against his. He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm.

“I know. We’ve not spent a day apart for over a whole year.”

He nods against her head, his chin butting it slightly. “Mm,” he agrees.

“Will you call me when you land?”

“Of course. I’ll call you every day, at least five hundred times.” He smirks into her hair.

“Maybe not five hundred… four hundred and ninety-nine will do just fine.” Jude giggles.

They both laugh and he pulls her closer, breathing out through a stretch and a yawn.

“Are you sleepy?” She asks him.

“A little.” He replies through a small sigh. “Been a long day.”

She kisses his forehead delicately, resting against his head as he shuts his eyes.

Frankie opens them momentarily and strokes her face. “Do you have bad dreams?”

“About the island?” Jude asks him.

“Yeah.” He admits timidly.

She nods. “I used to have this nightmare while we were there, that a helicopter came and rescued you, but it left me behind. I could see you flying off in the distance and waving at me. I was running so fast but then you disappeared.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Frankie reaffirms to her.

“I know. It was just a bad dream, right?”

“Right.” He says. His breath smells sweet in her face, scented from the mint of his toothpaste. “I’m coming right back to you, okay?” He promises.

“I know.” Jude says. “Get some sleep, you’ve got another flight again tomorrow.”

He kisses her gently. “Duerme bien, sin pesadillas, hermosa.” (Sleep well, no nightmares, beautiful)

His fingers dance upon her bare skin in the early morning fuzz of the light, and every single touch, even the lightest of touches, makes Jude’s body convulse and react in a way that she never thought possible.

Her body is communicating with him, becoming fluent in his language whilst receiving every part of Frankie that he offers so freely.

His big hands engulf her body, sweeping across the surface of her warm skin and soothing her. Frankie kisses her lips and down her chin, sucking on it before he sweeps under her jaw towards her collarbone.

Licking her nipple and awakening it from a swollen, puffy areola in the warmth of a new day being born across the Big Apple, that flows in from the open window, she hums out deliciously as she stretches around him. He pulls it further into his mouth as her back arches, enjoying the feel of his wet tongue running over it and leaving cool, wet tracks.

“Mmm...” She whines softly into the air with her eyes closed.

Frankie nips it gently making her squeal. He smiles around the hardening bud as he smooches on it gently, carrying on his journey down her body.

His unruly curls tickle against her skin, long and feeling coarse and wiry from being dried out by saltwater and constant sun exposure. Jude runs her hand through it, sweeping it out of the way so she can see those lips and the disruption they cause.

He kisses down her stomach, hooking his fingers into the elastic of her panties and pulls them down over her hips. Frankie has her spread with his whopping hands separating her thighs and pushing them up as makes out with her pussy. Kissing and dipping his adept tongue into her wet folds to taste her as he goes. The clicks of his kisses sounding out are all around her as the flicks and darts of his tongue delve deeper each time he licks her out.

Jude reaches down, raking her fingers through his locks as he looks up at her - those piercing, dark eyes swirling with infecting poison; his lips mashing against her cunt and his tongue flicking over her clit as he sucks around it.

His fingers massage the inner meat of her thighs, gripping and rubbing as he feasts on her, making her body squirm as the tingly pressure on her clit mounts.

“Frankie...” She gasps out as his delicious gnawing begins to intensify and make her toes curl.

She scratches harder at the back of his skull, him grunting into her at the feel of it - those fingers twisting around his hair and tugging as they become knotted in his scalp, sending prickles flooding down his back.

His cock is rock hard, being crushed between his body and the mattress as Jude writhes against his face. He sucks her fleshy lips, popping and squelching out of his greedy mouth before he’ll lick them up again and suckle some more, unable to get enough of her.

“Oh fuck!” She sighs out, her eyes closed and tumbling.

She gyrates her hips around, rocking against his tongue to get the best of him, feeling that pulsing and glitter begin to blind her vision.

“Mmm, don’t stop.” She writhes more intensely now, hearing his gasps around her folds as her legs twitch and her thighs shake uncontrollably. Tasting those wet, fleshy ribbons as he licks up and down, up and down on a repeating cycle that makes her soar.

Her gasps are getting louder, her back arching higher in a dangerous contorted curve as she pants and groans, fisting inside of his hair ferociously that she could almost tear it out.

Her body shakes, rippling as she cries out, reaching down with scrambled, frantic hands and gripping onto his arms as the veins in her neck strain, her eyes roll into the back of her head and her pussy contracts and explodes all over his mouth.

“FRANKIE!”

Frankie sucks harder on her clit, pinching it between his teeth deliberately as she bucks and pulses; her head thrown back into the pillows, the room feeling like it’s spinning faster around her.

She’s out of breath as he licks up and down, planting kisses and his lips knock against her clit, buzzing and making her thighs jolt from the shock of the sensitivity that now crowns it.

He smooches against it delicately, looking up at her and holding her eyes. He kisses the inside of her thigh, nuzzling into it.

Jude beckons him to her and like a slave to his heart and cock alike, he willingly follows. He slowly begins to crawl up her body towards her face. His cock sweeps against the inside of her apex and he’s solid and heavy against it. Precum smears across her skin and feels cooling in the morning breeze.

He leans over her on his arms as he pushes his hips into hers, slipping comfortably inside of her wet, slick hole again as she gasps out for him, her head lifting off the pillow to meet his plush inviting lips.

The island has stripped everything superficial, leaving only raw unfiltered connection, this bond that can’t be broken. Every glance, every touch speaks volumes of shared pain, survival and resilience. It isn't just about love, it's about understanding. They had seen each other at their lowest, held each other through heart-wrenching despair and found strength in their unity.

Words are often unnecessary now; a simple look can convey the deepest of emotions. Her hand slips into his, fingers interlacing with a familiarity that feels ancient, as if they've known each other for lifetimes.

His hand swoops around the back of her head and holds her, keeping her close to him as Frankie slides in and out of her, working up a tantalising rhythm that makes his lips part, his breath coating her face. Deep, indomitable strokes make Jude feel every inch of him - make her remember him.

Frankie curls his fingers around her throat gently, stroking the skin there with his thumb and feeling her groans vibrate against his palm as he kisses down the side of her face, a slew of kisses planted under her jawline.

He flashes back to the countless nights when the fear and hope had danced on the edge of their consciousness, where dreams of rescue seemed distant and elusive. It was during those moments their connection had solidified, becoming an unbreakable anchor in a sea of uncertainty. She was always there, holding him up; her eyes reflecting the hues of the setting sun and sparkling off the ocean waves at him.

He feels it, feels the emotion surge over him and he buries his face into her neck, squeezing away the tears as he scrunches his eyes shut. Frankie can feel her legs tightening around his waist, hanging onto him and taking him so deep into her.

“We made it, I love you. We made it… I love you.” She chants through her gasps and cries.

His head lolls a little, like he can’t handle it any more. His body feeling weak and out of breath and losing his stamina fast. Gasping so hard his throat runs dry and no noise will flow out of it anymore; just those inhaled croaked whispers of oxygen steaming past his teeth.

Jude whimpers as he presses his forehead against hers, his hips still bucking into her deeply; the slick feel of his cock sliding in and out of her with ease, her walls contracting and tightening around him. Gasping out loudly in unified melodies as they swallow each kiss, panting as their bodies slide across one another’s.

“Come for me,” she hears him grunt through his gasps as the slapping of his cock inside her soaked pussy relentlessly hammers.

Squeezing into his skin with her fingers as her body trembles and shakes, she releases, feeling wondrously dizzy.

Frankie slows, winding his hips into her so she can feel him deeply. They stare into one another’s eyes, holding that gaze as they pant and soar together. He cradles her closer to him as he kisses her, feeling how good she feels around him. She squeezes and her body aches, aches for him to never stop.

Her hands are in his hair again, scratching around his scalp and making his head tingle and pulse.

“I love you,” Jude whispers to him and he groans out in response, his body starts to fly.

“I love you, hermosa,” Frankie replies as he mashes his lips to hers and grunts out in a deep, husked whine as he comes deeply inside her, his cock twitching and seeing stars behind his eyelids as she cradles him in her arms.

“We made it.” He pants.

“We made it.” She sighs.

As soon as she knocks on the door, Jude’s engulfed by her parents who won’t let her go out of their strangling grip.

Her mother clutches hold of her as if she might disappear again and her father’s tears betray his own usually composed exterior. The three of them cry all over each other, for what seems like hours on the porch, as Frankie hovers awkwardly until he’s dragged into the throes of it.

He’s plied with copious amounts of coffee, feeling sick to his stomach, whilst they listen horrified and aghast at their tales of sheer grit on the island.

They don’t divulge too much, but it’s enough to render her mother to tears again and her father to shake Frankie’s hand for saving his daughter.

“Actually, she saved me. She’s got bigger balls than I do.” Frankie chuckles, and her father pats him on the back approvingly.

“I like him,” her father says to Jude approvingly.

But hovering over the reunion is the agonising moment when Frankie and Jude will have to part and it's in the looks they give one another as her parents talk and engage with them. It’s in the sinking feeling in Frankie’s gut and the acrid taste at the back of Jude’s throat.

Watching him pull away in the car, waving to her through the window with that giant palm, is like her heart has been ripped out of her chest.

His departure, even if only temporary, leaves a hollow ache. An unsettling thought creeping in about how she can navigate being here without him. She knows she can't.

They had been inseparable for so long, facing every challenge together and now they had to do this one alone. She tries to offer him a smile with her wave, but it doesn't reach her eyes, and she can barely hold on. She wraps her arms around herself trying to stave off the chill despite it being a warm day. Without him, the world is bleak and cold and scary.

Her mother comforts her as best as she can when Jude bursts into tears as the car disappears around the bend in the road at the bottom of the street, but all she does is retreat to her old room that has been left untouched and climbs into bed, crying until she falls into a stunted sleep.

The thought of him being mere inches away from her, let alone nearly a seventeen hour drive away in Florida, is shattering. The absence of Frankie is already felt the moment he’d let go of her hand and she would have given anything at that point to be back with him and in his arms.

Frankie’s flight back to Florida was delayed by a few hours, in a typical prolonged agony. You’d think as the writer of this tale I’d give the poor guy a break, right?

When it touches down eventually at Pensacola International Airport, there is no wild fracas to greet him like at JFK. It’s hauntingly quiet, no journalists, and leaves Frankie on edge a little as he stalks through arrivals on alert. Benny meets him in the terminal.

The sight of his old friend and comrade brings a flood of emotions. Benny’s face breaks into a wide, stupid grin, his arms opening out.

“I can’t fuckin’ believe it, you son of a bitch!” Benny hollers, his voice choked with happiness and relief, as he hugs the fuck out of Frankie, and for a while doesn’t let go.

Frankie smiles ghostly back at him with pink, chapped lips and tired, droopy eyes.

“C’mon, let’s get you home, Fish.”

On the ride back to Benny's place, Frankie’s quiet, contemplative and staring out the window at the familiar surroundings of Pensacola. The late afternoon sun casts a warm glow over the city, highlighting the palms swaying gently in the breeze.

They pass by the old coffee shop where he and Eddie used to go after the NA meetings and talk about his feelings and cravings. It still has the same faded awning and the neon “open” sign flickering in the window. Frankie can almost taste the bitter, cheap coffee and hear Eddie’s encouraging words again, but the memories feel like they belong to someone else.

“You okay, man?” Benny asks him as he winds his hand round the steering wheel, eyeing Frankie carefully. The car turns into a familiar residential street and he realises Benny still has the same apartment.

“Just weird, you know?” Frankie says, squinting in the sunlight through the window.

“Yeah. You came back from the fuckin’ dead. If that isn’t weird I don’t know what the fuck is, right?” Benny says with a smile draped in disbelief.

In some ways it’s like he had died on that island. Frankie knows a piece of him is still there, still trapped and unable to escape; his feet lodged in the sand that refuses to let go, and without Jude here beside him, he’s daunted at the prospect of truly living again.

A weird feeling considering, before the island, he'd felt dead in some ways too.

Benny explained that he had immediately called all Frankie’s family to inform them all that Frankie was very much alive and well, and was coming home. They had all cried, celebrated and struggled to wrap their heads around it of course, with so many unanswered questions at how he managed to defy all the odds.

“What happened to my apartment in the end?” Frankie queries.

They pull up at a stoplight, and Frankie’s gaze settles on a group of teenagers hanging out in front of the convenience store. They look so young and full of life and potential, even if they aren’t doing anything with it. He remembers being that age, full of dreams and plans to join the military and make something of himself. Now, after everything, those dreams feel so naive and distant.

Benny scratches over his head. “It was sold. We thought you... Well, you know.”

Frankie nods and bites down on his lip.

“You can stay here with me until you find somewhere else. I got you a pull out cot.”

“What about my stuff?”

“Maybe your parents kept some of it, I dunno. The rest is gone, man. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Frankie replies. “It makes sense.”

“You thought about what you’ll need to do, call the bank, shit like that?” Benny asks him. They drive down a quieter neighbourhood, the sidewalk packed full of parked cars.

“Yeah. I’ll do it this week, maybe tomorrow.” Frankie shrugs.

Benny nods, turning the car onto the driveway and he kills the engine. “I got you, Fish. Anything you need.”

“Thanks, man. I appreciate it.” Frankie smiles.

As Benny leads Frankie up to the door, he feels a weariness settle over him. All he wants to do is find a quiet corner and sleep, to escape the overwhelming swirl of emotions and noise. The journey home, the media attention, the fact that he's left Jude in New York without him, is all too much.

But as they step inside, all those thoughts of sleep are immediately squashed as a cacophony of voices yell out in surprise and greet him.

Faces from his family and friends all blur as they mingle and crowd him, the sound echoing off the walls of sobs and sighs of relief. Pats on the back, hugs into full bosoms. Benny looks a little sheepishly at Frankie and shrugs.

“They all wanted to be here,” he simply says, and Frankie can’t summon the strength to be mad at him for it, he’s just too exhausted.

So he allows himself to be passed around, gripping everyone tight in his arms. Banners and balloons are floating around and the apartment, cramped and small as it is, is filled to the brim with cheers, laughter and the smell of freshly baked food.

He spots Will and freezes. The two men stand facing one another for a moment, the weight of everything they’ve been through during the worst of Frankie’s addiction hanging between them. Then Will steps forward, pulling Frankie into a tight hug and he sags against his friend.

“It’s good to see you, Fish.” Will says into his shoulder. “You look like shit, but it’s damn good to see you.”

He stands there stunned. Frankie hadn’t expected this and although he’s pleased and relieved to see everyone too, he’s not sure if he can handle it all right now.

He looks around the room and at what feels like millions of pairs of enquiring eyes swarming him, lips moving with questions that are repeated and he doesn't hear them all, not fully. It goes on like this for what feels like hours; a tidal wave of gushed hugs, strong drinks being passed around the room in celebration of Frankie’s arrival home and tears from almost everyone.

Phones are ringing off the hook with relatives, friends and well-wishers all keen to speak to him that can't be there, and pass on their love and support. Being pulled this way and that into their arms and shoulders.

He feels like a bumper car, wandering aimlessly around the apartment, bashing into everyone who he comes across, and being pulled into conversations that are on a continual loop about how he managed to survive on the island and come home to them all.

The repetitiveness is exhausting him and overwhelming him in equal measure; it’s akin to being thrust into a plethora of screams and screeches, a black hole of braying deafening pitches, each desperate to reach out and touch him. To tug him here, there and everywhere and to get a piece of him, no matter how small or miniscule.

Around nine PM, Benny clocks the anxious look blooming on Frankie’s face crammed into the furthest end of the couch and seeming incredibly small inside it.

“You alright?” Benny asks him as he spots Frankie leaning on the sink in the kitchen with his eyes closed a few minutes later.

“Just tired,” Frankie replies. "It's a lot."

“Yeah. I get it. Everyone’s amped. Maybe it was a bit much having everyone here at once.” He admits.

“No, it’s cool. I wanted to see ’em. I’ve fuckin’ missed ‘em all.” Although it may have been better in small, contained doses - his head is hammering. “Thanks, man.” Frankie replies, stifling a yawn from escaping with the back of his hand.

“You going to call her?” Benny asks, as he notices Frankie checking his phone again.

Frankie nods and clears his throat, blushing.

“What’s she like?” Benny asks.

“Fuckin’ amazing,” Frankie replies looking at him with sincere, watery eyes. “If she hadn't been there, I’d be dead for real.”

“What are you fuckin’ talking to me for then, call her.” Benny says and claps Frankie so hard on the back it winds him a little with the force. “I’ll get everyone going. You look like you might crash.”

He smiles as Benny heads off into the lounge and Frankie lets himself out of the back door into the small, overgrown garden. He dials Jude’s number and it rings a few times before she answers.

“Hey you,” comes her voice down the phone. It sounds relieved and he feels like he finally breathes for the first time since he left her.

“Hi, how are you?” Frankie asks, smiling as he speaks. “I’m sorry. I’m not interrupting you, am I?”

“Don’t ever say sorry for calling me,” Jude says, and he can hear her smiling. “You okay, you sound tired?”

“Yeah, I arrived to a surprise party. Wasn't expecting that. Everyone’s here.”

“I bet that’s nice.”

“Yeah… yeah.” He scratches at the back of his head.

“Or not?” Jude queries and he smiles at how well she can read him, even without seeing him.

“Just a bit much to take in. Tiring, but great.” He says.

They’re quiet on the phone and both laugh at the same time.

“I fuckin’ miss you,” Frankie says to her, the ache in his voice palpable.

“I wish you were here right now, I can’t sleep without you.”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna sleep much either.”

“What are you doing tomorrow?” She enquires.

“I gotta go see my lawyer, talk to the bank, convince them I’m not dead so they give me my money back,” he chuckles.

“Yeah, me too. Fucking sucks dying, right?”

“I need a haircut.” Frankie chirps, running his hand through his long tresses that are down to his shoulders.

“Oh, me too. But, I’m going to miss your mop head.” She muses.

“I’m going to miss braiding your hair.”

“I won’t get it cut too short then.”

“Good,” he replies smiling as he wanders around the garden. He slings his free hand into his pocket.

There’s another silence between them.

“I want you here with me,” Frankie admits to her.

“I wish I was so badly right now.”

“I’m tempted to fly back to you.” Frankie admits, already trying to work it out in his head.

“I know, but your family needs you. And so does mine for a little bit.” She explains. “My mom is a mess.”

“Yeah,” Frankie replies, his back sagging a little.

“Have you watched the news yet?”

“No.”

“We’re on it. They got us at the airport.” Jude explains. “The news just keeps showing it over and over… feels really surreal.”

“Figures. They’ll wanna talk to us at some point.” Frankie explains, sniffing in deep.

“I know.” The tone in her voice is flat.

“We can wait, okay? Do it when we’re ready.”

“I just wanna kiss you right now.” Jude whines.

“Fuck, Jude. Stop it, or I will get on that fuckin’ plane.” Frankie warns, feeling the ache inside his gut and loins alike.

“I need you, Frankie. I’ll always need you. You know that right?”

Frankie smiles as he stops walking around the garden. “I love you,” he says to her down the phone.

“I love you, more.” She says to him and he chuckles.

“Don’t fight me on this.” He smirks.

His name is called from somewhere in the house.

“I gotta go.”

“Go back to your family.”

“Call you tomorrow?”

“Can’t wait.” Jude smiles down the phone.

“Fish!” his voice is called again, and after hanging up and taking a calming deep breath, Frankie wanders back inside. He searches for the voice calling him and is met with a concerned look on Benny’s face.

“I didn’t know she was coming, man.”

Frankie spots Will, nursing a beer and laughing at something a woman who stands beside him says. She drops her wrist from his shoulder and the whole room goes silent except for the familiar tinny jangle of bracelets that have always adorned her wrist.

He watches in slow motion as Carla’s eyes land on him, widening a little and a small smile turns her lips upwards at him. A wave of her palm and then she’s walking over to him, and Frankie’s rooted to the spot. Unable to move or hear anything except the clattering beats of his blood pulsing in his ears.

“Frankie,” she murmurs softly.

He simply nods at her and tries to force a smile he knows he should give her. There was a time he smiled for her a lot. He remembers the early days, the memories stuffing themselves in between his ears, even if he doesn't want them to right now. The laughter they shared, the plans they made. They had fallen in love so quickly, so frivolously.

There were memories of lazy Sunday mornings in bed, spontaneous road trips and the way she used to look at him like he was her whole world. But then there were lies, secrets and shame. Frankie tries to forget them and bury them deep because that was a different Frankie, it had to be.

He remembers the lies he told her about his addiction, the late nights when he promised he was working, but was actually out scoring coke. He remembers her worried eyes, her pleas for him to get help, her face coming into a fuzzy view at the hospital when he woke up after the overdose.

He remembers his stubborn denial and digging his heels in. The fights, the arguments and the day he finally caved and told her he was done. And then he’d gotten on that damned plane. Leaving her and their history and pain behind and thrown up in the air, and it’s all here now, confronting him like a tidal wave, and he’s drowning right in front of her.

“When I heard the news, I-” She trails off unsure of what to say, and again, he just simply nods. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks, it's uh… it's good to see you.” Frankie says.

And it is, in some bittersweet way; she looks good, healthy. A sheen in her eyes and a tan on her skin. They stand there for a moment, the silence stretching out between them.

“Listen, I… it’s not the right time, but we need to talk.” Carla says, offering a weak smile to him.

“Talk about what?” Frankie asks.

He feels the weight of their shared past hanging around them, thick in the cool conditioned air in Benny’s apartment. She looks at him, a mixture of sadness and relief in her eyes. And something else he can’t quite put his finger on, guilt perhaps?

“I’m sorry,” Frankie says, his own guilt pressing hard on the back of his tongue.

She baulks clearly not expecting it.

“For everything… For lying to you. For hurting you.” He says. And he is, part of him will always be sorry for it.

She reaches out, touching his arm gently, and he flinches.

“I know, Frankie. I just… I wish things had been different.”

His legs feel weak as he stands there before her, offering her an apology that’s long overdue, and yet hearing the words flow out of his mouth doesn't do it justice somehow.

“There’s something I need to tell you.” Carla says, her voice trembling. “After we broke up… I didn't know how to tell you, and then you were gone, and it got so messy and I didn’t know what to do-”

“Carla-”

She takes a deep breath, meeting his concerned gaze. “Frankie, you’re…”

“What? What is it?” His mind races with a thousand thoughts and scenarios, but the one he doesn’t expect is the one she ultimately breaks him with.

She speaks again, the wobble in her voice sounding the words out clear and unmistakeable. “Frankie, you’re a father.”

To be continued...

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divine-misfortune · 21 days

Text

Mushy May, day 4. Wound tending/first aid.

Rating: T

Pairing: Alpha/Omega

Words: 1,399

Summary: Omega gets hurt and simply shatters under the weight of his guilt. Alpha puts the pieces back together.

Contains: Vague descriptions of injuries, talk of feral water ghouls (ie: Delta), lot of hurt before the comfort. Mushy May? More like misery may- (i'm sorry)

Once again many thank you's to @forlorn-crows for all of this <333

He was shaking.

Alpha swallowed thickly as he registered that Omega, who moved with a surgeon's precision in every aspect of life, Omega the sturdiest most reliable thing the unholy father ever crafted, was undeniably shaking.

His hands trembled as he stumbled for the edge of the sink, knocking a few sterilized tools from the counter beside it onto the red splattered tile as he caught himself. Alpha's ears pinned back. Without all the hissing and growling, with the chaos forcefully subdued by the younger quintessence ghoul’s quick thinking, all Alpha could hear was his mate's unsteady breathing.

The sound of the faucet being turned on broke him from his stupor, driving Alpha from where he'd been rooted with ice creeping into his veins. Lead settled in his belly, a weighted sort of dread as he flocked to Omega's side. He choked on the scent of copper and gunsmoke as he grabbed for Omega's wrists, a desperate attempt to ground him. Try to bring recognition to his eyes. Omega almost jerked away from him and he instinctively held tighter. Never wanting to let him slip away in this blind panic, he'd get lost in it. Alpha did his best to hush him, he was never one for comforting or soothing. People don't often seek out fire to ease the pain, but it was good for cauterizing the wound.

“Hey, hey, Megs it's me-” Alpha softened his voice to the best of his ability, “look at me.”

It took a moment but those pinprick pupils found him after bouncing to a few nonspecific points, and Omega let out a shuddered breath.

“Did you-?” he began, voice grim. Alpha felt his stomach sink like it might retreat back to the very pits he crawled out of.

“No. No, your kid just put him out for a bit till we figure out a better solution.” Relief and worry fought for a place in his expression. Omega tried to look over Alpha’s shoulder but he abandoned the idea the second he saw the tattered curtain.

“This wasn't supposed to happen, the transition was supposed to stop it” his eyes dropped, staring at the multitude of gouges raked down his forearms. The reality of failure dawning on him. “We put him through hell, and we still lost Delta.”

“I….” Alpha followed his gaze down to the cuts on his arms and grimaced, only now registering the blood seeping through his fingers and down his own wrists. “Fuck…C'mon, I don't need you bleeding out,” he gently tugged him away from the sink and towards the office at the back of the infirmary.

Omega dropped heavily into the chair behind the desk the second he got close to it, fully sagging into his seat. He looked tired, like this had taken everything he had left. Maybe it had.

The last few months had seemed somewhat hopeful. Short lived relief as Delta seemed to settle into himself, into his new element. There had been a shared anxiety over the transition to begin with, it had never been done before - the idea of an element like water, entirely untamed, being reshaped to fit the ever changing mold of something as elusive as quintessence seemed so outside the realm of possibility. The solution really had been too good to be true, there was no saving a water ghoul from their element or the fate that they were doomed to. Perhaps Omega should have seen it coming, should have sensed the fraying threads in Delta's very being, and judging by the resignation creating harsh lines on his face Omega accepted his part in Delta’s rapidly deteriorating humanity.

Alpha watched his chin sink to his chest, eyes fixing somewhere far away, seemingly unbothered by his injuries or just too numb to care. He wanted to grab him by those broad, capable shoulders and shake him. Shake the sense back into him. Rattle the guilt out of him like spare change from a piggy bank.

But he clenched his fists at his sides and went to collect the things he needed. Alpha was no medic by any means but he could certainly clean and dress a wound, Omega had taught him well through the years and various injuries he'd collected - for a time Omega must have thought he was getting hurt like that on purpose to have an excuse to visit the infirmary. His time in the medical wing was informative at least, he knew the various cabinets and drawers a bit too well.

Rags, hot water, gauze pads, and bandages in hand Alpha returned to Omega to find the quintessence ghoul had not moved an inch. Even the few strands of hair falling over his face hadn't shifted.

The position felt backwards. Alpha knelt before him while Omega sat silently, avoiding eye contact out of shame. He did not move with confidence like the quintessence ghoul would have. Hesitant and cautious as he moved to dab a wet rag at the fine imprint of teeth. Omega nearly jerked from his grip but Alpha's tail swatted at him lightly, pulling his hand back towards him. Delta had a nasty bite, two rows of jagged needle like teeth, flinching was certainly understandable.

“He really got you good, huh…” Alpha mumbled, feeling a tendon in Omega's hand twitch in a sort of agreement. No change in his face. “Omega,” he sighed, barely looking up. “You can't tear yourself apart over him, he knew the risk when he pursued the transition.”

Not a word.

“This isn't your fault. You couldn't have predicted this.” He offered with an alarming sincerity, a voice too gentle to belong to someone like him. “You did everything you could, but you can't save everyone.”

His fingers curled, a fist in his lap suddenly. Alpha feared those claws would dislodge the blood clot and he'd start bleeding everywhere again but Omega didn't seem bothered by the thought.

“Why can't i?!” The words spilled out of him soaked in desperation, face screwing up, eyes shut. “What good am I as a healer if I can't save them?” His voice broke, silently pleading for an answer to ease his guilt.

Dropping the red stained rag to the floor with a wet slapping sound, Alpha reached for his face instead. Needed to touch him, skin to skin, he couldn't let Omega fall much further lest he lose him entirely. This was the only lifeline he knew how to provide.

The tears escaped at the first touch, and Alpha wanted to engulf him entirely. Shroud him in a warm safety where the cold cruel reality couldn't tear into his mate any further, but all he could do was slip his arms around his middle and drag Omega's face into his shoulder. The position was awkward at best, what with Omega in the chair and him just kneeling on the floor, but they still found a way to fit together. They always did.

Clutching the back of his shirt, Omega's shoulders shook. A muted sob that could have easily torn Alpha's hardened heart entirely in two.

“You couldn't save him but you gave him more time,” Alpha held him tighter, like the truth might be squeezed into him. “You did more for him than any of us could.”

“He'd have never forgiven me.” He mumbled, cheek pressing close to Alpha’s steady pulse.

“He would have never thought you needed forgiveness.” He corrected and laid his palm flat to the nape of his neck, idly scratching at the overgrown whispy hairs. “Delta was nothing but grateful to you.”

Against his neck he felt Omega open his mouth to argue but the words didn't come. He didn't have the energy to let them tumble out, wilting into the fire ghoul's embrace helplessly. Alpha knew his knees would ache, he'd probably walk with a faint limp for the next day or two from the unforgiving tile against his bone, but he didn't dare to move. The bruises were nothing compared to the proverbial beating Omega had given himself, he could endure it. Alpha could endure it all if only to bring Omega peace of mind.

So he remained, a light in the dark, coaxing Omega back from the places none of them could follow. Warm and solid, something for his lover to latch onto. Alpha would have stayed perfectly in place for centuries if that was what Omega needed.

#writing #void writing #namelss ghouls #omega ghoul #alpha ghoul #alpha/omega #alpha x omega #the band ghost #ghost the band #ghost bc #the band ghost fanfiction #mushy may 2024

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